


You remind me of a dream.

by melbopo



Series: sh wlw fic bingo [2]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, BAMF Isabelle Lightwood, Canon Divergence - By the Light of Dawn, Episode: s02e10 By the Light of Dawn, F/F, Getting Together, Isabelle Lightwood-centric, Lightwood Siblings Feels, Meet-Cute, Not Beta Read, Shadowhunters WLW Bingo, Slow Build, Yin Fen Mention, the definition of slow build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-24 19:24:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20019763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melbopo/pseuds/melbopo
Summary: Time travel is a tricky and isolating thing on its own, but especially when not everything goes as planned, including Isabelle's own feelings.~~~~~for the sh wlw bingo for team red : canon divergence + time travel + blank space





	You remind me of a dream.

**Author's Note:**

> trigger warning for addiction withdrawal symptoms- I mention Isabelle's lack of physical reaction to her Yin Fen withdrawal really briefly when she first sits at the hunter's moon. To be safe, you can skip from the moment it mentions yin fen (end of a paragraph) and to the next time someone speaks.  
> writing this fic made me realize why I don't write canon fics - whewww i tried so hard yall to stay inline with canon/what was known for this episodes but there is probably still some gaps. I hope you're able to enjoy the fic just the same!
> 
> the alternative summary for this fic is izzy being a bamf on a mission and finding someone she connects with (while having multiple time travel related panics) along the way.  
> you're welcome.

Isabelle is no stranger to death. She is a shadowhunter after all; the soldier part is implied. 

It doesn’t matter that she recognizes some of the faces of the now dead downworlders, doesn’t matter if she considered some of them friends or that they _could_ have been one day.

Now they will never be.

It doesn’t matter right now. Those are emotions she simply doesn’t have the time to process; not when the institute is in complete chaos and the soul-sword is missing.

Isabelle does what any good soldier does: shoves her complicated mess of emotions to the back of her mind (for the late nights when sleep eludes her) and continues forward. She goes through the proper motions, listening to the mission debrief, arresting the remaining Circle members on the premise, and attempting to organize the disorder of it all for someone has to.

Her walls crack the moment Raphael approaches her. At first relief fills her when he touches her hand because he is _alive_ but then anger floods her at his deception, at how he hid her phone when Alec and the institute _needed_ her. How could anyone that truly loved her do something like that?

The shaking starts in her wrist, where he touched her, and she fears all of her walls will crumble now she’s given herself this single moment to feel anything but blank. She heads for her room immediately after dismissing Raphael, suddenly feeling vulnerable, raw, and in desperate need to collect herself in a private location.

What ifs flood her mind as she quickly walks through the institute. What if she hadn’t gotten to the institute when she did? What if she had gotten there sooner when Alec first texted her? What if she had been able to stop the soul-sword from being activated? What if-

Isabelle enters her room at the same time someone else does-but from her closet. Immediately, she extends out her serpent bracelet into a staff and bends her knees, letting the adrenaline of a possible attack take over her less than sturdy state. Her walls are back up.

In war, soldiers don’t have time to cry.

The newcomer seems confused, moving their head around the room quickly before finally resting on her in the entryway. Their eyes expand and shoulders sag in relief.

“I did it. I really did it.” They mutter, partially in awe and partially in disbelief.

“What? What did you do?” Isabelle immediately counters, taking a cautious step forward with a firm grasp on her staff. From this angle, the strange face is identifiable. Her breath stop in her throat for they are no stranger. They’re _Magnus Bane_. 

Magnus looks different than when she saw him just moments before. Beyond his outfit being different, he looks older in a way. Which perhaps it just another way of saying he looks exhausted, with weary lines and dark purple bags that betray he hasn’t had a decent night’s sleep in weeks.

“Well I've been out of the closet for centuries so not that…" His grin is easy at his own joke. She can't help but smile despite her confusion. "Time travel.” Magnus winks playfully. “Now I don’t have much time Isabelle, but I need your help to prevent all the unnecessary death on this day from ever happening.”

Isabelle doesn’t even hold doubt for a second that this is Magnus from the future nor that time travel is _real_. She believes him. If anyone could make it possible, she knows without a doubt it’d be Magnus. The Lightwood family ring catches her eye, hanging on a necklace next to his heart.

And with the what ifs and deaths weighing heavy on her mind, she’ll take any opportunity to repair some of the damage if it’s possible.

“What do you need me to do?” Her voice is firm, back into soldier mode.

Magnus seems surprised but quickly recovers. “You need to go back in time and alter the soul-sword to remove its ability to be activated in that manner. ” 

“Why not destroy the sword all together?”

He shakes his head. “It’d alter the timeline too much, things would be _worse_ . Dot looked through every major option, all the timelines showed _this_ incident as being a turning point. It forever scars the potential cooperation between downworlders and shadowhunters. It takes ages for anything cooperative to be built back up. And it’s a guilt Jace harbors for the rest of his life and never moves past; it makes him an easy pawn for others to manipulate.”

Angels, she does fear the impulsive and reckless side of her brother but maybe she’s looking at in the wrong way. She knows Jace well, could predict that he’d easily sacrifice himself without any outside input or hesitation if he truly believed it was the right solution.

She understands it to a certain degree too, they were all raised shadowhunter soldiers. Their life is spent defending the Institute and upholding the Clave’s _laws_ with little thought for themselves and their own questions. But Jace has always felt a need to prove himself and his self worth to a higher degree. Perhaps a part of him believes being a weapon, a pawn, is all he is good for.

Perhaps they’ve never tried to tell him otherwise.

His tired voice brings her back. “The war drags out for over a decade.”

Isabelle hangs on to his every word, at this rare glimpse into the future, with an aching heart for this future sounds bleak and exhausting. “Do we win?”

Magnus sighs. It sounds as weary as he looks. “Yes, we eventually win, dismantle the Clave, and slowly rebuild but we lose hundreds of shadowhunters and downworlders in the process.”

The answer to her unspoken question lingers from his words: how can that be worth it?

She nods, confidence growing stronger. “I’m in.”

He relaxes a fraction, enough to let a small smile through. “Okay. I’m sending you back just over a year to when the soul-sword was briefly in the institute. You have the right clearance and known interest to examine it without drawing suspicion then embed this rune Clary created onto the blade. You will need to memorize it because nothing on you will travel with you.”

Magnus hands over a sheet of paper. Isabelle's eyes scan over the unfamiliar rune a couple of times to commit it to memory. She sees pieces of what looks like other familiar runes that compile it, making it easier to remember.

“My version of time travel is different than anything the movies make it out to be. It’s more like opening a portal to an alternate dimension except it’s a portal to the same dimension just a previous moment in time, never the future. Because I’m not physically going with you, I’m can only send your soul back. Your soul from that time period will be in your body with you too but will have no real recollection of anything you do. It’ll feel like a bizarre fever dream.”

“So I’ll be possessing myself?” Isabelle tries to keep the judgement from her tone but being possessed by a demon only weeks ago is still fresh on her mind.

He thinks over it for a moment. “Sort of. It’s the only feasible option I’ve discovered so far within minimal to no lasting damage. Everyone you interact with during that time won’t actually know it was _you_ when I pull you back, it’ll be like a hazy memory, so try not to interact with too many people that you know.”

“What about me when I return? Will I remember?”

Magnus inhales deeply and holds it there before exhaling deeply. “Maybe. I haven’t completely tested sending someone this far back in time. You might or it might feel like a dream for you too.”

Isabelle is quiet as she absorbs the fact that Magnus hasn’t really _tested_ what he’s about to do before. It's a big risk.

“Does that change your decision?”

His question strikes at her very thoughts. Her not remembering the mission is a risk she’ll take if it’ll help save lives. She has to. She meets his gaze steadily, determination in her expression. “No. When will you send me back?”

“Now. But I’m only sending you back for 24 hours so you have to act fast. When it’s time to come back, I’ll physically find you to send your soul back to this time period.”

She nods her understanding, deciding not to waste her brain capacity in fully understanding the weight of what she is about to undertake. She can do this; she knows she can.

Magnus claps his hands once before slowly pulling his hands back, sharply twisting his wrists. A dark purple orb begins to grow between his hands, the edges blurring in shape while its center is night sky black. He pushes the orb towards the closet door and it fills the entire opening like a portal.

Isabelle sets her shoulders as she stares at the abyss, feeling the weight of all those lives on her shoulders. She’s not sure what awaits her on the other side but she’s determined to carry out the mission no matter what.

Magnus’s hand on her forearm gives her pause. “Thank you Isabelle.”

She shakes her head. “No, thank _you_ Magnus for looking for another option. I won’t let you down.”

“You never could.” Magnus’s smile is sad, giving Isabelle pause. She wonders what sort of friendship they have in the future, presumably a close one to warrant such a confident response.

His words follow her into the unknown. “Be safe and good luck, my plum.”

~~~~~~

One moment Isabelle feels fine then she steps through the closet doorway to her past and it’s as if all the air around her was sucked out, making her feel weightless and numb.

The moment she crosses over the threshold, the ground disappears from beneath her and it seems as if she is plummeting towards it. Fear threats to take over her mind; maybe she shouldn’t have trusted a stranger claiming to be Magnus from the future.

Then as suddenly as it began, it’s over.

The ground returns below her feet and she can feel the air around her again. She gasps for air to fill her lungs as she opens her eyes quickly. She catalogs everything around her: the short alleyway, summer humid air, Atlantic street sign, her favorite heels, an unfamiliar red dress, and her hair is up. She must be heading to something in Brooklyn. 

She may not know _exactly_ where she is, but she’s definitely in a different location, outfit, and weather than she was mere minutes ago. Playful giddiness fills her: time travel is _real_.

Then she remembers the reason for her discovery and she pushes the excitement aside. In her purse, she finds her cellphone and grins for the date is fourteen months earlier than the last time she checked, an undeniable confirmation. She checks her map app to figure out the fastest way to Manhattan from where she is. Magnus did say time is critical. She takes a moment to situate herself before heading in the opposite direction from which she is facing.

The ping of a new text rings and she debates ignoring it. She reckons it could damage present her’s life which is not the goal. She opens the text from Meliorn, saying they’ve arrived at the restaurant. She's supposed to be heading to a date with Meliorn. She smiles, allowing herself to remember how much she loved them before everything became so much more _complicated_. 

As she walks, she texts back some partially accurate excuse about being called in last minute to help with a mission. And of course they understand, they are a seelie soldier themselves. They offer to reschedule the date when they’re back in the city next week and she agrees easily. She knows she could end things now but it feels selfish. She doesn’t want present her to miss out on those feelings, even if they end painfully.

Flashing blue and red lights of an idling police car catch Isabelle’s eye as she rounds the corner, praying it’s nothing shadow world related that will distract from her mission.

She’s acutely aware of the timer on her mission. Even if she has twenty-four hours, she still needs to find out where in the institute the soul sword is, alter the camera feeds, and enter when no one else is there. It’s going to take at least a couple of hours and that doesn’t even include the time to rune the sword.

As she passes the police car, she notices no one is in the car nor around it. Perhaps it was an escort service or something. The sound of an ambulance makes her lift her head and turn in its direction, suddenly not so sure. Now next to the car is _Luke_ with his detective badge hanging outside his shirt. She runs through her memories, trying to pinpoint exactly when she met him because they’ve worked so closely together now, it seems like he’s always been a staple in her life.

She’s fairly certain she met him only months ago. Still if Luke is here then there could be something shadowworld happening. She knows her window of time is short but she’d feel guilty if she didn’t at least ask if he needs her help.

“Is everything alright?”

Luke looks towards her, eyebrows coming together as he takes her in. Nothing like recognition flashes in his eyes, they remain impassive if not guarded. He shakes his head. “I don’t need your help, shadowhunter. I’ve got it under control.”

So her guess was right, they don’t know each other - _yet_. She nods her understanding. Behind Luke, in the corner of the alley, Isabelle can see the side profile of someone lingering. If the police lights were intermittently illuminating their dark, tight curly hair and brown terra cotta skin, she would have missed them entirely in the shade from the building. They’re a little too far away to make out their face. She’s not even sure Luke is aware of them.

She gestures with her chin. “Who’s that?” 

Luke glances over his shoulder, sighing at the sight of the person staring at the apartment building across the street while hunching in on themselves. He sounds tired as he replies, potentially more honestly than intended. “Just someone looking for a friend.”

Isabelle nods again, relieved that whatever the situation at hand is, Luke is handling it. “Good luck to you both.”

~~~~~~

By the time that Isabelle makes it to the Institute, dusk is falling. Groups of shadowhunters pass by her with the occasional head nod as they head out to patrol different areas of the city. Now is a time when the Institute is most empty which is perfect for her to execute her reconnaissance.

She enters the old building and no one glances twice at her, which makes sense, she lives here and belongs here. She acts as inconspicuous as possible, heading to the mission ops room as if to survey the security of the entire building. She pulls up feeds of both internal and external cameras to make it less obvious to onlookers. It takes a couple of tries before she successfully identifies where the soul-sword is being kept: in the weapons armory on the main table.

She would have expected that for a weapon of such importance and destructive capabilities, it’d be guarded or have its own casing at the very least. Perhaps that’s just her paranoia from the current state of things influencing her. Perhaps when there aren’t known villains back from the dead on the hunt for the soul-sword, it’s not as heavily protected.

Isabelle nods to herself, already working through how to alter the video feed so she can get in undetected. She closes all the camera feeds and heads to her room where her laptop is. The easiest solution is to freeze the camera’s video collection but have the recording continue of that still.

Suddenly she remembers a crucial detail: there is a glitch in their technical software. When a historical feed is pulled up on one computer of a camera, the glitch makes that video play for all viewings of that feed, no matter the device, until it is closed. It was a whole mess when they discovered the bug. Someone was watching a feed of the training room which sent the institute into a frenzy of how could Jace be out on a mission and sparring at the same time.

It took the long winter months to untangle the issue but she can definitely use it to her advantage now. If she simply stops the weaponry’s camera from recording and starts playing a feed from the night before, no one will notice the change because the date of the recording is only stored on the file name. 

If she’s going to do that, it’s best if she doesn’t do it from her own computer and incriminate herself. She continues to her room to change out of her date outfit and into an all black work outfit. 

Once back in the mission ops room, she looks for a system already logged into the camera feeds, preferably by someone on the internal security detail to avoid unnecessary suspicion. In the back corner, someone leaves one of the computers so she heads to it. As they pass her, she realizes it's Raj. She prays that his inability to remember to log out when leaving a station started years ago for that would make things much easier.

The current open feed is of the back gates where someone seems to be attempting to sneak onto the old church grounds. Raj most likely went to scare them off or tell someone else to scare them off. She doesn’t have much time.

She minimizes the feed to the corner and opens the feed of the hallway he went through to keep an eye out for his return. She pulls up the folder for each day of their different cameras. The camera names are nonsensical and in definite need of organization. It takes a couple of trial and errors for her to locate the right one. Once she finds it, she looks up to survey the room and gauge the damage of altering the feed right now.

There are three other people in the room but only one is at a computer and the other two are talking amongst each other. She imagines the likelihood they’re looking at that particular feed out of dozens is minimal. She checks the feed of outside, pleased that Raj is watching the intruder run off which means she has time.

Isabelle pauses the weaponry’s feed and opens the previous night’s feed. She fast forwards to this time during the night prior and just lets it play. She sends a quick prayer to the Angels that nothing unusual happened on the feed last night. She knows she would have heard someone making jokes about it earlier that day if something did.

She maximizes all the exterior cameras over up that feed and steps back from the station. In the hallway camera feed, she sees Raj heading back to the mission ops room so she quickly gets out of there.

She heads back towards her room with single minded focus in an attempt to keep her nerves at bay. She’s rounding the corner when someone calls out her name. Her body freezes. Her mind quickly flickers through half a dozen excuses for why she was at Raj’s computer as she turns to the voice. She relaxes when she realizes it is simply Alec.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay, Iz?” Alec slows his steps as he approaches, his eyes scan over her face looking for something. It’s a little unnerving and makes Isabelle want to take a step back, afraid somewhere on her face is a sign that reads: ‘I'm not from here!! I am from the future!!!’

She tilts her head, about to play ignorant and brush the questioning to the side but Alec doesn’t give her a chance. “Or did you only challenge Jace to a staff sparring match for the night off to put him in his place?”

Isabelle grabs ahold of the context clues eagerily. She shrugs nonchalantly, looking up as she considers it. “Maybe. Or maybe I just thought he could use _actual_ competition for a change.”

Alec laughs at first before quickly sobering when he remembers _he_ is usually Jace’s sparring partner. Isabelle smiles mischievously when Alec’s face changes to playfully offended, well aware of her teasing. They always joke amongst each other that they are the only real competition against each other.

“Actually I did have plans but I wasn’t feeling well so I came back early to sleep it off.”

His face becomes concerned as he looks over her face again, most likely looking for subtle hints of illness instead of injury. “Do you need anything? I’ll let our parents know so they’ll stop assigning you to double duty in the lab and patrolling.”

“No!” Isabelle responds quickly, panicked at the idea of their father checking up on her constantly out of concern while she attempts to complete the mission. “Please don’t or else mom will make me drink that disgusting medicine from our childhood that smells like oranges but burns your throat when you swallow. I rather recover on my own _without_ Dad’s hovering than have to take that stuff.”

Alec watches her, jaw tensing for a moment before nodding his head slowly. It’s likely he’s weighing the pros and cons of keeping it from their parents and not asking for their help. “That’s a good point. I don’t think that medicine ever helped us at all.”

“Jace always said it would be more useful -

“-to make prisoners talk than heal anyone.” Alec finishes in unison with her, making both of them grin.

“He might be right but I believe it’s best to not admit that to his face.” Isabelle adds, making Alec’s eyes crinkle from a wide smile.

“There’s a reason you’re known as the smartest Lightwood sibling.”

Isabelle rolls her eyes, she can’t help it. It’s a reflex to a statement she doesn’t fully believe in. She’s seen the things that Jace and Alec do, now and in the future, the risks the take, how they push themselves in ways that inspire her and motivate her. She thinks about Jace fully committing himself to everything he does, even if the situation is reckless with his self assuredness always carrying him through, and about Alec’s bravery to go against what their society said was acceptable, to live for _himself_.

“We’re all smart in our own ways.”

Something dark passes over Alec’s expression, making him seem closed off and distant. A look that was a much more frequent state of being in these years than Isabelle’s ever allowed herself to acknowledge. It hurts to admit but it’s the truth. When he blinks, that something has passed.

“Maybe. But you’re smart enough to stand by your beliefs and that’s something I could always learn from.”

She can’t help but wonder if the same thought is passing over them. She is annoyed at herself, her old self, for never having noticed this wall that Alec built around himself earlier. She always assumed his introverted personality made him prefer his siblings company to any one else, not that there may be more to it. 

She wants to tell him that he has nothing to worry for he is too, that one day he will feel comfortable enough to embrace all parts of himself out loud. She wants to reassure him that he does and he _will_ stand by his beliefs, that the future is difficult but brighter at the same time because of it. She wants to tell him she’s so proud of him, that she trusts him, and looks up to him.

He’s the reason she’s started acknowledging _maybe_ she thinks about women beyond just their general attractiveness. The moment’s never feels right though.

“You still have time…” She teases first before adding some honesty. “And I’m always going to believe in you Alec, just like I’m always proud of you, no matter what I’ll have your back. Jace’s too -that’s what family’s for, right?”

He looks taken aback by her comment, but a smile is on his lips. “A shadowhunter sharing their emotions? You must be _really_ sick.”

Isabelle rolls her eyes, about to argue but he kisses her forehead in a rare display of affection that effectively stops her rebuttal. “But you’re right and we’ll always have your back, now get some rest, Iz”

She smiles to herself the whole walk back to her room, pleased to have told Alec she supports him, even if it is in the past, for she knows they don’t do it nearly enough. Magnus’s warning about interacting with people she knows comes to mind and she realizes that once she leaves, Alec won’t even remember that _she_ is the one that spoke to him. This is why she should focus more on the mission, less on her emotions and attempting to improve relationships from the past instead of in the present. What good is it if they don’t even remember?

Once she enters her room, she tires immediately. Time travel is unexpectedly exhausting with managing the different timelines, the warnings, and the stress of the missions itself.

There are a couple of hours until everyone will be back from their patrols and retires for bed, then she will head to the weaponry. She’s been here for six hours which should give her plenty of time to eat and rest before completing the most important aspect of her mission: modifying the sword. 

~~~~~~

Once it’s 2 am, Isabelle decides it is finally late enough for her to sneak into the weaponry. The entire institute is deserted with just a skeleton crew on night watch. She checks the feed one more time to make sure the record indicator is off and it is still playing the feed from the night before. No more set up needed, it’s time.

Next, she simply _walks_ into the weaponry, causing the lights to turn on. She holds her breath as she crosses the room to the soul-sword, as if that would make a difference. No alarms sound. She lets out her breath. Of course nothing happened, she’s allowed to be there, she _works_ here often. It’s like any other time she comes down here to tinker with a new project.

Slowly she approaches the soul-sword, realizing immediately that she’s never been this close to the soul-sword in a non threatening or trial related manner. She’s never been able to just take it in on its own. Now is finally her chance to examine what is arguably one of the best weapons ever made in the world, forged and powered by angels themselves. She refuses to let this opportunity skirt by.

The sword itself doesn’t look extraordinary necessarily she realizes. It has an elaborate handle but it’s honestly a little too long and thick to be useful by most in battle. She runs her hand along the weapon, admiring how smooth the metal is even after all these centuries. It feels warm under her touch despite the coolness of the room. She leans in close to examine some of the fine details, trying to make out the small and ancient runes etched in the blade.

From this close, it sounds like the sword is humming. Perhaps all the embedded angelic magic makes the sword vibrate at that frequency. She can’t help but wonder if the vibration is something she can measure; it could be useful in designing future weapons. It could correlate to effectiveness and power of the weapon itself. She wonders if the vibrations will change at all after she applies the rune. It would be an effective measure to test that her mission even worked.

Fascinated by the prospect, Isabelle quickly gathers the tools and machine she would need to run some experiments. She hooks up the banana clips from the oscillator to the blade, careful to not scratch the material. She starts running through different experiments out of pure curiosity. 

She finds that the handle definitely dampens some of the power while inherently having its own. There is a slight increase in the recorded vibrations when she puts her hand on the handle but it doubles when she activates her angelic rune with her hand on the handle. She wouldn’t be surprised if the frequency of the power would be infinity times greater if someone with true angelic blood like Clary or Jace touched the handle.

She doesn’t take notes on anything she finds, just mental notes for herself. She doesn’t quite know what to do with this information yet and knows she doesn’t want anyone else to see it either. After running a variety of different tests on the blade’s inherent vibrations, she checks the clock. The fact it is already 4 am shocks her. She really does lose all sense of time when caught up in experimenting.

Isabelle realizes she must get going for the institute will be waking up in a couple of hours. She should be fully out of here and in her bed by then. She takes her steele and traces the rune over where the handle meets the blade. The rune glows red, as if burning into the blade, before disappearing as if nothing happened.

That scientific curiosity pokes at her as she attaches the oscillator again. She definitely has time for a handful of checks, to see if anything really changed. She’s disappointed to find that the resting frequency hasn’t changed which makes her doubt her memory of the rune. She puts her hand on the handle and relief floods her when the frequency changes only slightly, not nearly as much as previously. She activates her angelic rune and once again, there is hardly a change in the vibration measured unlike last time.

That must mean that it worked, that perhaps the rune prevents angelic powers from influencing the blade’s power. She can’t help but dance in her chair at her success.

Deciding she’s done all the testing she can with her time constraints, she starts putting everything she used away, making it look as though she was never there. She’s just wiping down the bench when an unexpected voice startles her.

“What are you doing up at this hour, Iz?”

She turns her head around quickly to the weaponry’s entrance, relieved that it’s Jace. What is it with her brothers’ startling her today? Perhaps she’s too on edge from her mission. “I could ask the same for you.”

Jace looks sheepish, glancing towards the wall of staffs. “I thought I could use some more practice on my form.”

His honesty eases Isabelle; he would never tell on her. They would never tell on each other unless their lives depended on it and they couldn’t help each other first. That’s just how their family bond was.

“Not a bad idea.” She knows he shies away from bows and staffs because they’re the preferred weapons of his siblings, even though Jace is sort of a weapons master. It’s a small way he shows his affection. “I’m not feeling great and couldn’t sleep so I came down here to look at some old projects then I saw the soul-sword. I’ve never seen it up close before.”

“Alec told me you didn’t even go out last night because you didn’t feel good. I still covered for you, so if you want another night off, we’ll have to rematch.” His voice is teasing as he steps closer to the sword, almost drawn to it and subconsciously aware of their intertwined fate. “Yeah, I’ve never been either.”

He runs his hand along the blade and Isabelle has an idea: additional testing with someone that has pure angelic blood. First, she decides to test whether the truth telling aspect still holds true.

“Hey Jace,” He pauses in his inspection to glance at her. His hand remains on the blade. “Do you like my cooking?”

He smiles easily. “Of course, I love you but your cooking is atrocious.”

Once he processes the words he said, his entire expression drops in shock, looking betrayed. Isabelle doesn’t hold in her laughter at his expanse. The truth to that question is always avoided by their family. “What? I-”

“The soul-sword is like Wonder Woman’s lasso, remember? It compels you to the truth.” Isabelle laughs, ignoring Jace’s lack of appreciation for her comic book reference. 

He narrows his eyes. “I feel taken advantage of.”

“I mean I’ve had a feeling since there are always leftovers when I cook but none when you do.” She admits with a shrug, not hurt in the slightest. “You prefer swords, how does the soul-sword feel to you?”

Jace looks around the room, well aware that this is crossing some lines. 

“I won’t tell if you won’t. I swear on the secret of the time you saw me break one of mom and dad’s anniversary gifts when I was first learning how to control my whip. You didn’t tell on me even though Mom was furious.”

He smirks in response, chuckling at the memory. It’s not that Isabelle thinks he doesn’t trust her but the memory is a semi positive one that usually makes him smile. Perhaps she wants to bring a little bit of joy to Jace too. “I’ve always wanted to hold the soul-sword. It’s supposed to be one of the most powerful weapons the Angels ever made.”

His eyes are wide as he lifts the sword in front of him, turning the handle side to side to find a comfortable position. The runes on the sword glow faintly in a way that they did not when Isabelle simply touched the sword which intrigues her. She assumes it has to do with his pure angel blood. 

“How does it feel?”

“Heavy. I expected it to be much lighter for some reason.” He shifts hands as if his other will take the weight better. 

“Supposedly when you put some of your angelic energy into it, it changes its power.” Isabelle tries to sound nonchalant, not sure how to convince Jace to activate the soul-sword to see if it sets off a blast in the basement that could kill downworlders en masse. 

He grips the sword with both hands, scrunching his forehead and eyebrows down as he concentrates on channeling more energy to the blade. The runes shine brighter but no blast erupts from it like was explained in the mission debrief. The rune worked!

Jace shrugs as he puts the sword back down. “While it is beautiful, I think it’s impractical for battle.”

“Yeah, I don’t think it was intended for battle.”

“Just decoration then?” Jace chuckles.

“Or for everything else we use it for -maybe as a symbol of our duty as protectors.”

Jace nods his head, eyes still looking at the sword with fascination. “Maybe angels are just stronger and bigger than us; maybe it is suitable for them.”

“Maybe.” Isabelle shrugs. “I like my idea better though.”

He snorts his amusement. He looks back at her and immediately his lips turn down. The sudden change in expression puts Isabelle on edge, suddenly unsure if Jace with his pure angelic blood can see both of the souls occupying one body currently.

“When was the last time you slept, Iz?”

She lets out the breath she was holding in her panic. “Are you saying I look like shit?”

“Yeah.” His tone is blunt but he smirks when she gapes in outraged. “I think you should try to get some more rest, I don’t want to have to cover your sick ass for longer than necessary.”

“You’re going to cover for me? No bruised ego or anything in exchange?” Isabelle teases as she makes sure to finish tidying the weaponry before heading towards Jace and the exit. 

“You think Alec’s going to be able to fully cover for you on his own?” He peeshaws as he shakes his head. “Nah, just get better so I can have my staff sparring partner back.”

“Awe - soft.” Isabelle teases, kisses Jace’s cheek as she passes him. He blushes at the call out, just as easily to rile up as Alec about possessing feelings. They’re not supposed to. Not as men. Not as shadowhunters. There are always glimpses of them, of their own version of showing they care for one another. Like specialized training. Like covering for each other. Like always having each other’s backs.

As she could have predicted, Jace brushes off the comment. “Yeah yeah sure, I can still kick your ass at any other weapon.”

Isabelle grins at the playful challenge. A wave of longing passes through her that is so intense it hurts. She misses these moments with her brothers, their teasing and training, when they believed they were helping the world instead of saving it from an angel supremacist. Their current world rarely allows for moments like this anymore, they just don’t have the time with all the new pressing issues and threats. She hopes the future she is helping to reconstruct does.

“We’ll see about that.” She heads down the hallway with Jace walking next to her. “You’re right. First, I need to get better.” 

“I’m always right.” He says, bumping her shoulder playfully.

Isabelle stops in her tracks at the edge of the mission ops room and stares him down, willing him to remember every stupid thing he ever suggested that got them in heaps of trouble with their parents. It must work for he rolls his eyes. “Okay, _usually_ right.”

She narrows her eyes. “What! I’m right.”

Jace’s stubborn streak is a thing of legends. Once he didn’t speak to Isabelle for a whole month because she jokingly said Alec was her favorite brother for sharing his dessert. Jace took it as a personal challenge to make it seem as she only had _one_ brother until she openly declared she loved both equally. This was before Max even.

She decides to let it go. She has a mission to finish, a camera to reset, and more sleep to get. “Weren’t you about to do some extra, unscheduled training?”

Jace’s eyes widen in surprise, clearly having forgotten the real reason he went to the weaponry this morning. “Shit. Hodge agreed to meet me at five to work on my footwork but I was planning to warm up on my own.”

He grips Isabelle’s shoulder in an affectionate manner. “Get some rest and I’ll see you out on the sparring floor again soon.”

“Of course, who else would give you a good challenge?” 

Jace laughs and Isabelle wants to just freeze this moment in time forever. A moment where his demons aren’t haunting him and he looks _happy_. Then he’s turning and the moment is over. 

“Exactly. We should schedule a training session for the three of us sometime soon - it’s been too long and we could _all_ use a challenge.”

She watches him walk away with a grin still on his face. When he’s out of sight, she turns around to survey the room. She’s grateful the early morning shift has yet to start for there is only one other person milling about and they look half awake.

She heads to the computer station she worked on the night previously, well aware that without Raj around, she’ll have to sign in herself. At least from this angle, she’ll be able to argue that she noticed the camera was off so she turned it back on. 

When Isabelle returns to the computer, she’s surprised to see all the camera feeds still up and running exactly how she left them last night. She rolls her eyes, wondering if Raj just _never_ logs out of the computer instead of simply forgetting. She huffs to herself at the major security risk that poses while quickly clicking out of the old camera feed and turning it back to record just in time to watch Jace enter the weaponry. He eyes the soulsword as he passes the table for a staff, distracting himself from his surroundings so the edge of the table catches him by surprise and he trips.

He’s almost never been clumsy in the entire time that Isabelle has known her brother, not even during his puberty growth spurt, so she can’t help but chuckle as he rights himself. After that, he quickly grabs a staff and heads out of the room.

She closes out of the cameras _and_ signs Raj out as well.

The on edge feeling she’s had for the whole mission recedes to a minor thing now the mission has been completed with minimal to no complications. All that remains is for her to be extracted. She has a couple of hours until that moment so she decides to treat herself to some well deserved rest in the downtime. She’s earned it.

~~~~~

Isabelle wakes six hours later, refreshed and hungry. As she gets dressed, she thinks back over Magnus’s warning about interacting too much with people that know her. Instead of further pressing her luck, she decides to sneak out of the institute and treat herself to lunch elsewhere.

After lunch, she has a couple of hours before she expects for Magnus to meet her. She uses the rare bit of free time to venture around the city and do mundane things. She walks through neighborhoods she rarely spends time in and explores the city with fresh eyes. It’s different to walk around by herself just because she _can_.

She discovers a florist shop run by a fae, a park filled with people doing tai chi, and a small flea market where she buys an interesting used book about race and ethics in medical research. She’s positive that her present self will also appreciate the purchase.

She even has time to read in the park for an hour or so before returning to the institute where she assumes Magnus will meet her. It’s where he found her so logically it makes sense.

Back in her room, Isabelle isn’t exactly sure what to do while she waits though. She takes in the messy state of her surroundings and starts to reorganize everything. She puts her books in alphabetical order, color coordinates her clothes by sleeve and waist length, changes her sheets, and even cleans her water glasses. Two hours of productive cleaning pass with no sign of Magnus so she just keeps going.

She does her laundry, dusts her shelves and rearranges her books to be alphabetical by author’s last name instead of title. The time moves by quickly with all these small tasks to occupy herself but she becomes more and more antsy with every chore she completes. Four hours later, with her room completely cleaned, clothes washed, and everything reorganized, Isabelle finally acknowledges her restless energy.

She’s not sure if it’s from the high from intense productivity or unease about where the hell Magnus could be. She lays on top of her bed, debating the merits of waiting there for him. In the dark of her bedroom, worries start forming in her brain about the spell, about the lack of testing, and even as dark as his capabilities as a warlock.

At that thought, she sits straight up. There is no warlock she knows that is _more_ capable and talented than Magnus. She believes in him and his ability to get her out.

She has to.

Because the alternative is that she is stuck here, in this time period she doesn’t belong in, living a life that is hers _but_ not really. People with perceptions of present her and expectations that are different than the ones she lives with now. People she shouldn’t interact with because when she leaves, so will those memories tied to _her_ will disappear. It sounds awful and terribly lonely.

Magnus _will_ come back for her. He has to because the alternative is not an option. The spell is most likely taking longer than expected, she did alter the timeline technically so perhaps that impacts it.

She’s too restless to stay inside right now. She needs to be elsewhere, confident that if Magnus appears, he’ll be able to track her. She’ll stay on land to be safe.

The sun set over an hour ago but the waxing gibbous moon offers a great deal of light as she walks. At first her direction is meaningless, but she sticks to busy streets, desiring to be close to people even if they are strangers. Perhaps that’s even what makes them desirable. They lack the guilt factor interacting with people that _know_ her has. She could talk to a stranger for a whole night and they would never remember her when she left which would be the same impact of her never talking to them in this time period either. It’d be harmless.

It’s with that thought in mind that Isabelle sets her direction to Chinatown, remembering the Hunter’s Moon as a place she only started to frequent in the past six months. It’s completely new to present Isabelle. Hopefully that means there will be few to no people that recognize her.

Angels, she hopes so.

Hunter’s Moon is busier than she expected for a weeknight. Every seat at the bar is taken and so are most of the booths. In the doorway, Isabelle debates leaving and returning home to question the destruction of the very fabric of her reality by being stuck in the past. She half turns to leave, to admit this was a terrible and foolish idea. She should be staying in her room in case Magnus returns any moment.

An empty booth in the front corner that immediately catches her eye. It’ll allow her to survey the entire room, feel comfortable, and yet stay out of the way. It’s probably how she should live to minimize danger to her mission, her past, _and_ her future.

She heads to the booth, a plan formulating in her head as she slides into the vinyl. She resolves that she’ll give Magnus a couple more days before she goes to find present day Magnus, convince him time travel is real, and help him master the magic to send her ahead to when she belongs.

She has no idea how much time that option would take. She doesn’t know how long it took Magnus to work it out. It could be months, years, or even longer. The thought is unsettling because just over a year in this time period will bring Isabelle to her present time period. A concept she imagines that will _not_ work out well.

Perhaps she could avoid all the mistakes she made though, like the fish stew that gave Alec food poisoning, her endless quarrels with her mother that stem from their similarities instead of differences, pushing away the people she loves when she’s hurting, accepting the yin fen…

She’s surprised she’s gone so long without thinking about the vampire venom based drug. Perhaps the mission at hand took over all her brain capacity. At the thought of it now, she expects the shaking in her right wrist to start like it always does. 

It doesn’t.

She stares at her wrist, resting against the surface of the booth. She watches for small trembles, the beginning signs, but none come. Relief and sadness flood her in equal measure.

A blunt voice draws Isabelle back to the world around her. “You’re in my seat.”

Isabelle glances at the table top for some sort of reserved sign and then up at the voice in confusion. How far back _did_ Magnus send her again? Middle school? Since when did Hunter’s Moon even save seats. “I didn’t know-”

Current time period Maia Roberts stands next to the booth and she looks _displeased_ , surprising the retort out of Isabelle’s mouth.

Maia’s lips are set in a straight line and her eyebrows are pulled close. The red scarf around her neck, hiding her scars, matches perfectly with the cartoon on her cut off t-shirt and her ripped jeans. Her looks cute with her black curls styled to perfectly frame her face. Actually, she looks like she could be meeting up for a date. The backpack on one shoulder and book in hand betray that more studious activities are what she’s up to.

Isabelle’s lack of reaction to Maia’s glaring must win some kudos for she simply takes the seat on the other side of the booth. She drops the book from her hand onto the table. “You’re friends with Luke, right?”

Well not presently but in Isabelle’s timelines, she is. It’s all semantics inside of her head at this point. “Yes…”

“Hm.” The response is noncommittal, neither positive nor negative, just a noise. Maia reaches into her bag, pulling out a notebook and a pencil before returning to the book on the table. She opens the book, _Seasick_ , and lifts it, effectively blocking Isabelle from view.

Isabelle pulls her head back a bit, surprised at the blatant closed off gesture as well as their interaction thus far in general. She feels a little hurt on top of already feeling isolated. “What! You’re going to take the other half of my booth to read? What if I’m meeting someone?”

Maia doesn’t even move her book to reply. “Well, are you?” 

“No but I could be.” 

“Hmm, I know you could be.” Maia makes it sound like a suggestion but Isabelle refuses to rise to the bait. “And I’m not just reading, I’m doing my homework at _my_ table that _you’re_ sitting at.” 

“Well I didn’t see your name anywhere.” Isabelle’s mostly just being difficult to be difficult. She’s always loved the teasing between her siblings and often looks for people that can keep up with it. There is no hostility in her voice, just a playful tilt at the end.

Maia huffs as she turns the page. “Clearly you’re not from here.”

It’s a simple comment but it takes all the desire to banter from Isabelle because Maia’s right. And it scares Isabelle as much as it makes her sad. She leans back against her seat, voice unsure. “Yeah, I’m not.”

Perhaps she revealed too much of her vulnerabilities into her tone for Maia moves the book to the side to look over. The corner of her lips are turned down. She chews on her bottom lip for a moment. Then two. Then three. When Isabelle thinks Maia is about to return to her book, she speaks. “Have you had dinner yet?”

Isabelle glances up quickly at the unexpected question. She doesn’t know Maia very well in her time period and definitely none at all in this present one. She’s familiar in a distant way, in a _safe_ way, that feels like everything Isabelle craves right now. “No, I haven’t eaten since lunch.”

The corners of Maia’s lips turn down further and she looks annoyed, but Isabelle isn’t positive if it is at her or someone else. Maia puts her book down again. “I’ll get us something good.”

She gets up quickly, barely waiting at the bar to place an order before returning to their booth. She picks up her book again but this time her shoulders aren’t rigid and tense. This Maia seems to be more closed off at first introduction than future Maia but then again, present Isabelle is different from her future self. A lot can change in a year. She can’t help wondering if becoming a werewolf is part of the reason for Maia’s gruff exterior.

Isabelle knows that if she didn’t meet people on her own terms, especially downworlders, being a shadowhunter would absolutely have taught her to have stronger walls around herself. A tough exterior means minimal hurt and emotions. But it also could mean failing to see the common humanity that everyone has, herself and Maia included. 

Isabelle knows there are shadowhunters whose views differ from hers, hence the survival of the Circle. She understands if the distance simply stems from a downworlder seeing the runes on her body.

Maia begins moving her notebook without a glancing, focusing entirely on the book. Isabelle doesn’t realize why until she smells melted cheesy goodness right next to her. The bartender puts down plates of nachos, chicken tenders, _and_ Brussels sprouts. 

“Don’t be shy now.” Maia’s voice is blunt again, trading her book for a pile of nachos. The corner of her lip tilts up.

Isabelle chuckles before digging into the chicken tenders. “What’s your book about?”

“The fast deterioration of the ocean and the creation of dead zones due to fertilizer runoff.”

“Like cell service dead zones?” 

Maia laughs. “No, not at all. Dead zones in the ocean.” She keeps talking as she fills her plate, rattling off information easily from the top of her head. Her voice is annoyed and matter of a fact, but it’s clear it’s about the issues at hand and not Isabelle. “They’re places where there is no longer any oxygen in the water due to an unnatural, accelerated algae bloom from fertilizer. Fish and other animals can’t survive in them so they’re just another detriment to the ocean’s ecosystem in addition to overfishing, pollution, global warming, and everything else.”

“Sounds interesting.”

Maia laughs again, louder this time. “Sorry, I realize it’s boring to anyone that’s not an ocean nerd like me.”

Isabelle looks up quickly with wide eyes, realizing her distracted comment sounded disingenuine. “Oh no, I meant it! It’s important to know about, it impacts our future. I’m just embarrassed I didn’t know anything about it even with my chemical and biological background. Well I know about global warming and everything else you mentioned obviously, but I’ve never heard about dead zones.” She tilts her head to the side. “I guess that makes sense since my interests are more in terms of epidemiology and human biology though.”

“That _would_ make sense.” Maia grins with a gleam in her eye. “My interests are more in terms of marine biology - I want to be an oceanographer or marine biologist one day.”

“You clearly have the passion and interest which will make you great at whichever you choose.”

“Thanks.” She says it like she means it and Isabelle smiles. “Are you reading anything good right now?”

“Actually, I just bought an interesting book today about the major scientific impact of HeLa cells and the ethics behind their taking. Have you heard of them?”

Maia shakes her head no but makes a joke about it seemingly falling into Isabelle’s interests. Then they fall into a rhythm after that, discussing different books they’ve read, loved, and related to their interests. They’re surprised to find they share some favorite books as well as exchange new ones the other has yet to read. It’s small talk, but it’s pleasant and _easy_.

It makes Isabelle feel less alone.

Finally after they’ve finished all the food in front of them, Maia reaches for the check at the end of the table. Isabelle goes for her own pocket. “I have cash for my half.”

“No, don’t worry about it.” Maia shakes her head. “The bartender is in my pack and gives me discounts on the food because I’m a struggling part time college student.”

“And I can help pay for the food.”

“No.” Maia’s tone is kind but firm. She puts some cash in the receipt holder and looks up at Isabelle with an eyebrow raised. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you to never refuse a gift from a ‘wolf? It’s rude.”

“Should she’ve? I wasn’t aware that’s common knowledge ...” Isabelle thinks through all her teachings on werewolves and her own experiences. She can’t pinpoint the custom Maia is referring to.

Maia throws her head back and laughs, jostling her curls. “Nope. But now it is.”

Isabelle huffs out a laugh as the bartender takes the receipt holder from Maia. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Maia shrugs, tracing a grain on the top of the table. “It looks like you’re having a hard time and could use a friend.”

“We barely interacted… I mean- thanks, but how could you tell?”

Maia levels Isabelle with a raised eyebrow. “Please, alone in this corner booth at the Hunter’s Moon is proof enough.”

Isabelle prides herself on having a handle on her emotions, a better one than her siblings at least. Meaning that she acknowledges she has them, processes them from time to time, and controls them. Looking at the face of kindness from someone that saw a strange, lonely looking shadowhunter makes Isabelle feel a little frayed at the edges. Her eyes water. She quickly shuts off, pushes her tears to the side. She doesn’t want to cry right now in front of Maia; it’s _too_ vulnerable.

Maia must see that little slip for her expression softens. “And maybe I too know what feeling alone and lost in the world looks like.”

“I am lost here- you’re right.” Isabelle confesses quietly, surprising both of them. Now that she’s been honest about herself, she finds that she can’t stop. She doesn’t want to hold this heavy burden on her own. “My friend brought me here and said they’d be back in 24 hours to get me but… it’s been longer than that and I have no clue what to do.”

“Are you alright? Do you have a place to stay?” Maia’s concern is blatant in her voice.

“Yeah I’m fine and have a place to stay.” Isabelle sighs. “I’m a little scared they’ll never come back for me.” It’s horrifying to voice that thought out loud. She feels better with it out of her mind and into the world though. She holds tight to that relief. “But I can’t think like that. I trust them and I know they’ll be back for me.”

“That does sound scary but you’re right, you can’t let yourself be dragged into the negative side.” Maia’s expression is earnest in a way that makes Isabelle feel cared for and seen. It fills her way more than the food did. “Because worst case, you’ll just learn how to live here. And it’s not all bad. I mean, at least the bar food doesn’t suck.”

“You’re right. It was pretty good.” Isabelle laughs, nodding in agreeance and feeling lighter already. 

The exhaustion of Isabelle’s stress is finally starting to hit her. She covers her mouth as she yawns, deciding it is definitely bedtime. She stands up from her seat. “Well I should get going before I fall asleep in this booth.” 

“Me too. I have some homework due before midnight.” Maia puts her book and notebook into her bag before turning to face Isabelle again. “My name’s Maia by the way.”

Isabelle realizes immediately that while this whole time she knew Maia’s name because of the time travel thing, the same could not be said for her. Isabelle feels silly for not having introduced herself earlier before nearly crying in front of this stranger. 

“Izzy.”

“Nice to meet you Izzy. Take care and I hope your friend comes back soon.”

“Me too.” Isabelle smiles warmly. “Thanks for being a friend.”

“You’re welcome.” Maia smiles back just as warmly. Thanks for being one too.”

It’s a comment said so genuinely that it makes Isabelle smile the whole way home.

~~~~~

Isabelle passes the next day in a similar fashion to the one before since she can’t return to her usual shadowhunter duties in this state. She gets to put the soldier part of her life on pause. She sleeps as long as she can, sneaks out of the institute, explores the neighborhood, reads a book in the park, and fields concerned texts from her brothers.

Based on her short list of symptoms, aches, exhaustion, hazy memory, and difficulty regulating body temperature, Alec deduces she has a terrible case of the flu. Jace ignores that deduction, clearly having searched them on WebMD, texting frantically about worse, uncommon, and potentially incurable ailments. He’s discussing taking her to the Silent Brothers for them to cure her when she finally interrupts his panic. She says she agrees with the flu diagnosis because it is the least harmful out of the options.

Alec sympathizes with her, having had the flu two winters ago that kept him in bed for over a week. Jace argues that they’re over simplifying the symptoms. In the end, Isabelle pacifies him. She agrees that if she isn’t feeling better in a couple of days, they will seek more help. Until then, she’s effectively quarantined until further notice.

When she puts away her phone, she realizes her texts will stay behind when she leaves and present her won’t have memories of sending them. She feels guilty for a moment, to be aiding in something that could challenge her memory reliability. She remembers what it was like after her demon attack, how she wasn’t sure if certain fragments of time really happened or were images from the Demon. 

She quickly quiets the guilt with a reminder that the texts are all about the same things so far: being sick. As long as she doesn’t continue texting, the narrative will all make sense. It’s a perfect cover for her future self and justification for present self.

After texting with her siblings and acknowledging she needs to text the bare minimum so people won’t check on her, she feels isolated again. The idea of going to the Hunter’s Moon comes to mind but she pushes it away at first. It feels selfish to frequent a place where no one will remember her when she leaves.

But she’s not doing any harm, rather trying to minimize it. She just wants to to feel less alone. When she thinks about it like that, it seems foolish to _not_ go.

So she does.

She sits in the same corner booth as the night previously but with her book, _The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks_ , this time. She orders a drink and reads a chapter and a half before she’s interrupted.

“You’re still here?” Maia’s tone is surprised but not unwelcoming. She stills manages to make Isabelle feel unsure if this was the right choice.

She feels safe here, like she can be her true self without fear of ruining who her present self is. There is a great deal of freedom that comes with that. She also has the rare opportunity to make a friend in the most mundane of ways. She likes the simplicity of it, how it’s not tied to violence and hunting demons. So far it’s been about books and their educational interests and she _loves_ that.

Befriending Maia feels like an unexpected gift Isabelle doesn’t want waste.

She puts down her book to watch Maia slide into the seat across from her with her backpack. 

“The day I’m not here will be the day my friend came back for me.” Isabelle attempts to joke but it comes out more truthful than she expected. She means it too she realizes. Perhaps it is selfish but being here brings a sense of comfort in a place she does not belong and that means a great deal to her.

Maia tilts her head to the side slightly, taking Isabelle’s words in and making her feel vulnerable tenth fold. So much for being a closed off soldier that shares no feelings, she’s been emoting all over Maia the past twenty four hours.

Maybe the mundane way of life brings it out of her.

Maia nods to herself, turning to her bag and rummaging about. “Good. You can help me study for my ecosystem diversity exam then.” She passes a deck of notecards across the table to Isabelle.

She grins, pleased at the nonchalant response. She’s about to make a comment about being a great teacher to her younger brother but she catches herself. It feels too personal. “Let’s get you an A.”

It becomes a routine between them over the next three days. Isabelle sneaks out of the Institute to escape to Hunter’s Moon and feel as much like her true self as possible. Because at Hunter’s Moon, she’s not alone. She has Maia. They spend the nights studying for the exam, working their way through the bar menu, and exchanging bits of conversation while they eat.

When they talk, it’s never about their pasts. Isabelle’s almost positive it’s a conscious effort on _both_ sides. For her it’s too confusing to sort out and for Maia, perhaps it’s not something she wants to share with just anyone. 

They only talk about the future, what they want out of life in terms of their career, what they want out of life for _themselves_ , if they’re gonna stay in New York City forever, if they’re ever going to find love. The last one started as a joke about a couple clearly on a first date that started terribly awkward but ended hopeful. It turned serious quickly for Maia doesn’t believe in love and Isabelle is a hopeless romantic.

They don’t argue over it because she gets it, understands how the concept can seem so naive to some. It doesn’t change what she believes though. She knows there is no limit to the number of times one can fall in love, there are just times where it works out and times when it doesn’t. She explains that too, says that her notion of love isn’t this all encompassing, one soulmate no matter what, because that isn’t love to her, it’s too easy to become obsessive and unhealthy. To her, love requires work and communication and compromise and can be really, really hard but really, really worth it..

She thinks about Meliorn, how she loved them but at the end of the day, she loved her family more. It doesn’t diminish the love she felt for him either, it just didn’t work out for them.

Maia kept quiet, making a comment about Isabelle’s view sounding nice before changing the topic entirely. Like she said, she understands and doesn’t broach the topic of love again.

They also talk about less intense topics, like favorite outdoor spaces to read, the art of doing things alone, and best bakeries in the city. They part ways each time with the same reference to their second meeting.

Maia says: “I’ll see you here again tomorrow night, unless I don’t?”

And Isabelle replies: “Yeah, unless you don’t.”

It’s so terribly mundane and yet Isabelle has never looked more forward to hanging out with someone that wasn’t a family member more in her life. She doesn’t think it’s solely because Maia is a person Isabelle feels she can be herself around for she makes similar small talk in the bakeries and at the park. It’s just not the same. Their eyes don’t light up when discussing the beach, they don’t laugh at her stupid jokes, nor smile at her stories. They don’t tease her back.

There is just something inherent in Maia that draws Isabelle. She’s surprised it took going back in time for her to notice for it’s unmistakable now. There is no way their paths don’t intertwine in the future.

They still talk about books too. Well mostly, Isabelle brings up books during the couple of blocks they walk together when they leave the Hunter’s Moon. It’s always sure to get a rise out of Maia, like right now.

“Women have always been outspoken about gender inequality, especially in writing. Not in all novels, yes, but just like interesting queer novels, they exist. I mean look at some of the prolific writers of the victorian era: Jane Austen and Emily Bronte! Often their books had themes of gender inequality.”

Maia groans playfully. “I can’t believe you’re using books written in formal English as examples right now -that implies you’ve read them.”

“Of course I’ve read some of their books - they were revolutionary for their time. I mean _Jane Eyre_ by Emily Bronte discusses gender inequality, the good and bad of family, as well as external and internal beauty all in the most melodramatic manner.”

“Melodramatic? Like _Twilight_ levels or _the Handmaid’s Tale_?” Maia’s eyebrow is quirked with interest.

“Well, I’ve never actually read either of those books...”

“What.” Maia laughs. “You’ve read hundreds of pages in dry, uptight English but not the cultural identifying classic of our generation, _Twilight_? I thought it’d definitely be part of your shadowhunter training reading list.”

Isabelle joins in on the laughter. “Unfortunately- no wait, _fortunately_ it’s not.”

“Well that’s a lack of foresight on their part. We need to remedy this asap.”

“Okay, but I don’t have a library card and I refuse to buy it on principle.”

“First of all, it’s about vampires and werewolves geared at teens not bad BDSM practices for adults. And second, you don’t need to because I own the whole series.” Maia’s grin is wide. “As well as the _Handmaid's Tale_ , so you can cleanse your brain after. If I was heading home, I’d just have you come grab them now but I’m heading in the opposite direction to a pack meeting.”

“Wow, you trust me.”

It’s the first thing that comes to Isabelle’s mind for the offer completely takes her by surprise. Not just the sharing of books but the invitation over as well. The significance isn’t lost on her either. 

Maia turns her head to look at Isabelle full on, head tilted in a way that she’s come to learn is Maia’s complicated thinking face. She blushes as the words process and set in. “Yeah… I do.”

The moment hangs in the air between them with a weight that Isabelle can _feel_. She trusts Maia too, this Maia. Maybe it’s because Isabelle knows Maia in the future too or maybe it’s because Isabelle feels so much less alone when they’re together.

Maybe it’s just something that is entirely _Maia_.

Isabelle knows rationally that it should sound scary, that thoughts of Maia shouldn’t make Isabelle feel safe when they’ve known each other for mere days. It doesn’t though and that scares her more than anything else.

Isabelle’s not proud, she deflects. “I bet you say that to everyone that helps you ace your exams.”

Maia doesn’t accept it though, brings Isabelle right back to her chaotic emotions. “Nope, just the pretty ones. But anyone who can handle my growling at confusing terms is definitely trustworthy.”

Isabelle blushes because from Maia, being trustworthy sounds like one of the highest honors. Based on their first interaction, it probably is.

She steps in closer and Isabelle leans in, stomach swooping from anticipation and expectation. Maia pauses with her head inches away from Isabelle’s.

“Can I kiss you?”

She doesn’t hesitate, nodding her head in agreeance before closing the minimal space between them, eager to taste Maia’s lips. They’re even softer than they look. And kiss is a soft and timid one at first, a simple press of their lips. Then she tilts her head and the kiss turns much more confident, a parting of lips, and more pressure against each other’s lips but just as tender. 

Isabelle brings her hand up to Maia’s shoulder for balance, leaning into the kiss more. Isabelle heart beats faster, feeling charged at every connection between their bodies. She’s hyperware of their touching and wants nothing more than to feel all of Maia pressed close, wants to feel that charge everywhere. 

It’s a great first kiss. 

A great first kiss that Maia will never remember when Isabelle leaves. The reality of her situation comes back to her like an ice cold shower, sudden and unpleasant. Questions immediately flood her mind. Is this going to impact their futures? How can she continue doing this to Maia, not just kissing her but being friends, if none of the memories will stay? Is this even going to matter if Isabelle and memories associated to her are gone? How is it going to impact _Maia_?

Isabelle was too caught up in the moment for this can’t become anything more. It just can’t. She pulls back reluctantly, hand still on Maia’s shoulder. She looks confused and Isabelle feels her heart ache: neither of them will remember this.

And she wants to. Angels, she wants to remember this week and that kiss when she returns, wants to find her way to Maia because she just feels _right_. And realizing that desire is scary.

This is exactly what she shouldn’t have done while time traveling: fallen for someone.

“Maia, I like you, I really do and that _scares_ me.” Isabelle doesn’t care that she’s practically begging. She has to make sure Maia knows, has to minimize the damage to her guarded heart. “But I’m on borrowed time here, and once my friend comes back, I have to leave. I have to leave and I won’t return.”

Maia stares back, the light in her eyes slowly dimming as the moment draws out. It hurts to watch that happen, even more to know you’re the reason for it. She nods her head slowly. “I know -you’re not from here. You said that the first day we met.”

She looks at the ground, kicking her boots together while scoffing. “I just wanted one good thing, but I guess that’s pretty selfish of me.”

Isabelle lets her hand drop from Maia’s shoulder, hand skimming her arm gently to hold her hand. “You should want good things, you _deserve_ good things. You should never think that’s selfish.” Isabelle squeezes Maia’s hand. “No, if anyone is selfish, it’s me for showing up day after day when I know I have to leave eventually.”

“It’s just hard to remember sometimes, Izzy.” She sighs, not arguing with Isabelle’s logic. “I’ve got to go before I’m late to the meeting and put on dish duty.” She looks back up, a sad smile on her lips. “I’ll see you here again tomorrow night, unless I don’t?”

Isabelle smiles back but it feels hollow. “Yeah, unless you don’t.”

It’s how they always part way but this time it truly feels like a goodbye.

~~~~~

Sleep is difficult to find that night for Isabelle. She keeps thinking over all of her interactions with Maia and trying to calculate how miserable it will be for those to just _not exist_ , for either of them. Isabelle meant it when she said she was being selfish. She’s completely forgot her original plan to find Magnus and ask for help, completely wrapped up in this excitement of hanging out with Maia and playing at _mundane_.

That’s a scary thought too -that Maia and Isabelle only work out in this artificial moment because she’s shirking her shadowhunter responsibilities and living a relatively mundane life. What if when these memories leave both of them, they never get to recreate new ones in their future?

She likes Maia, really and truly. The idea that what if might be a reality is an unsettling one. This is why one shouldn’t time travel for so long, the realities become so confusing and _sad_. Isabelle just wants to go home to her time period, to stop meddling where she doesn’t belong and creating feelings that’ll just disappear with her. It feels unnecessarily cruel to both of them.

At four am, she makes up her mind to find Magnus promptly after she wakes up. She can’t live like this forever, she knows that. She just wanted something good for herself too.

~~~~~

Isabelle keeps to her word. After lunch, she heads to Brooklyn to check Magnus’s home first. The most likely place to find someone is their house, right? Or at least, it’s the best place to start. If she is unlucky, she’ll try to search the shadowhunter database for his location.

She walks by one of many alleyways when the air around her crackles and her arm hair stands on end. It makes her feel uneasy. She reaches for her steele as she glances down the alley. Only something from the shadow world creates a reaction like that.

A leg appears from one of the back building doors, then another then another set. She ducks behind a dumpster incase whomever portalling in is not friendly, especially to shadowhunters. She needs to gather more intel about the situation before deciding if there is even a threat.

Magnus and Alec’s voices surprise her.

“So you’re telling me you told Isabelle you’d extract her in twenty four hours but it’s been a week instead?”

“Alexander, I didn’t lie to her on purpose. I don’t know some of the nuances - like not being able to physically time travel to a location outside a certain radius my present body and I forgot I was in Japan for the majority of this week. All this time travel stuff is new to me, hell, the _world_. I don’t have it all figured out.”

Alec sighs. “I know, I’m sorry for snapping. She’s my little sister - I’m just worried about her. What if she’s not even alive or something? Can she even survive outside of her time period for that long?”

“She was successful in her mission, we both know and lived that. She’s alive too, her soul has a trace of my magic on it so I can feel her even though we’re in different time periods. She’s perfectly fine… and around here somewhere.”

She watches Magnus and Alec both turn their heads in opposite directions, a perfect mirrored move that speaks to years of working side by side. She grins from her hiding spot at the thought. It’s time to reveal herself.

“Aren’t we both a little old for you to call me your little sister?”

A huge grin appears on Alec’s face. He lets go of Magnus’s hand to rush forward and hug her close. Their embrace is a tight one, as if it has been a long time since they’ve seen each other. Or perhaps, it felt that way for how worried Alec was. He mutters in her hair. “Never too old.”

Alec looks different as well, older, yes. But not as old as someone who doesn’t take proper care of their skin should look at least a decade in the future. She wonders briefly if this isn’t the same Magnus that sent her on the mission, but she glances at his outfit. That maroon waistcoat is definitely the one he wore last time.

That means… Excitement fills her at the prospect and she holds back happy tears, squeezing Alec even tighter. His future is as bright and endless as he always wanted.

She hopes hers is too.

~~~~~

Isabelle jolts awake from a deep sleep. Like as if she was free falling through the air and she suddenly woke up before hitting the ground. It’s jarring and disorientating. She attempts to take in a full breath but it doesn’t feel like any oxygen is coming. She tries again, pushing down her panic as she focuses on her breath.

Inout.

In out.

In. Out.

After a third inhale, her lungs fully expand and her chest finally feels filled again. With her breath back, she fully relaxes back into her bed. She tries to parse out what could have woken her. The clock next to her bed only reads 9:02 pm; she’s only been asleep for an hour or so.

Perhaps it was an odd dream. She’s no stranger to them. She is a soldier after all. This feels different. She isn’t covered in a cold sweat, trembling, or crying. Her mind isn’t racing with thoughts of the people she’s let down, ones she couldn’t help in time. Those ghosts are hard to talk about, for all of them, especially because a shadowhunter _shouldn’t_ talk about them. It’s a sign of weakness.

Her and her siblings have an unspoken agreement though, whenever the nightmares feel too real and the ghosts are hard to chase, they text their sibling group chat the ghost emoji. At least one of them will appear in the room within fifteen minutes for an impromptu sleepover. It’s been different with everything going on in their lives but Isabelle knows at their core, the same support is there. It always will be. 

For her latest dream, she can’t remember anything beyond the soul-sword being involved which doesn’t surprise her in the slightest. Finding the soul-sword is a top priority since someone stole it right after Valentine manipulated Jace into activating it today. Thank the angels it didn’t work as intended. Circle members retaliated instead, attacking Jace and Clary in addition to the downworlders before being taken down. She can’t even imagine the impact if it _had_ worked as intended. She pushes the negativity to the side; it won’t get her anywhere to dwell on those sorts of what ifs.

She does know how she felt in the dream: anxious, sad, triumphant, happy, warm, and good, so, _so_ good. It’s an odd collection of feelings but overall, she feels positively and almost wistful. She wishes she could remember more because it must have been a great dream. Regardless of whatever the topic of it was, she’s fully awake now.

And she has a strong desire for bar food. Perhaps that’s what woke her.

She isn’t going back to sleep any time soon, she might as well satisfy her craving.

As she leaves the institute in search of food, she keeps trying to bring forward more details about her dream. The harder she tries, the more it eludes her. She feels frustrated at her brain but resolved at the same time; dreams have always been elusive for her.

When Isabelle makes peace with her frustration and takes note of her surroundings, she’s surprised her feet lead her to Chinatown, to the Hunter’s Moon specifically. Well, she does remember seeing food there and it is a bar so she’s sure it will satisfy her needs. It’s just nearing 10pm when she enters, but the place is relatively calm with small groups of people scattered around at the bar, the pool table, the handful of booths. There is one tucked away in the front corner that calls to her; it looks cozy and out of the way.

She’s disappointed when she approaches to find it empty. The feeling throws her for a moment because she’s not expecting anyone and she picked the booth for it’s secluded location. She pushes it aside, residually feeling out of sorts after the dream and abrupt wake up. She sits with her back to the wall, basking in the feeling of safety and familiarity that fills her. Perhaps she should come to Hunter’s Moon more often.

Isabelle’s reads over the drink and sparse food menu on the table when a voice startles her.

“Hey if you want a drink, you’ve gotta come to the bar. We’re short staffed cause it’s not peak time yet.”

Isabelle looks up from the menu, surprised and pleased to see Maia at the end of the table. They’ve never really interacted but Simon’s talked about her and Isabelle’s heard about Maia speaking her mind, calling bullshit on things. Isabelle admires that a lot in someone, makes her trust them.

And she does, trust Maia. 

Maia tilts her head to the side causing a curl to bounce into her eye and out again. Her scars accented by the gesture. Did Isabelle mention how cute Maia is? Cause she’s _really_ cute, especially now. Her eyebrows pull together as if trying to place Isabelle.

She decides to make it easier on Maia since Simon already pointed her out and she’s been a topic of conversation at the institute recently. Isabelle smiles warmly. “I’m Isabelle. You’re Simon’s girlfriend, Maia, right?” 

“Ex-girlfriend. And yeah.” Maia corrects quickly, surprising Isabelle. She didn’t know of that development but she reasons things have been pretty hectic. Her expression must reveal her emotions for Maia clarifies. “I’m not really into dating men right now…”

Isabelle huffs a surprised laugh, completely understanding Maia’s sentiment. She smiles softly in response, seemingly pleased to have elicited the response from Isabelle

Something about Maia’s smile reminds Isabelle of a dream, a really good dream that she can’t quite grasp. She feels a desire to chase that feeling, to pull more of those smiles from Maia. With more confidence and smoothness than Isabelle ever expected, she asks, “What about women?”

Maia blushes at the obvious implication in that simple question. Her smile grows. “You barely know me.”

“You’re right.” Isabelle says matter of factly as she shrugs. She grins, feeling emboldened by the smile on Maia’s lips. “Though you remind me of a dream and I’d like to get to know you.”

Maia bites her lip as she glances at the steadily filling bar then back at Isabelle. “My shift ends in an hour then usually I grab dinner. Maybe you can join me and we can start there?”

“I’d really like that.”

~~~~~

Years later when Isabelle and Maia are laying in bed together, enjoying a moment to themselves in their often chaotic world, Isabelle will whisper a simple question into Maia’s curls. “Why did you agree to go on that first date with me?”

Her answer will be just as simple: “You reminded me of a dream too.”

**Author's Note:**

> did i potentially put too many lightwood sibling feelings and nerdy!isabelle moments into this fic? maybe.  
> do i regret it? nope. 
> 
> hope you enjoyed it as well as the whole hodgepodge of things I threw into this fic just because I wanted to!! i'd love to hear your feelings/onions below!
> 
> thanks again to rike and the shwlwfic library for this amazing event - wouldn't have written 7k+ of Isabelle feelings without you!


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